Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH THE CLOSED CURTAINS
Police found Cody at home with Drew.
She had not fled.
She said the hospital was upsetting him and that he needed privacy.
A doctor confirmed his injuries remained minor and that home care was medically acceptable, though leaving without instructions had been irresponsible.
The forensic child interviewer spoke with Cody two days later.
Neither Drew nor I watched from the room.
Cody admitted jumping onto the cake.
“Why?”
“Mom said it was fake.”
“What was fake?”
“The party.”
“Did she say the cake was fake?”
“She said Maggie wanted people to think Theo was happy.”
“Did she promise you anything?”
“A console.”
“Did she tell you Maggie would pull the table?”
“She said Maggie gets crazy when people touch Theo’s stuff.”
Cody began crying.
“I didn’t know I’d fall.”
“Did your mother ask you to pretend you were hurt?”
“She said if I didn’t cry, nobody would believe us.”
His account did not make him innocent of cruelty.
He was eleven.
He had chosen to destroy his cousin’s cake and shout that his wish would fail.
He had also been recruited by his mother into an adult legal plan he did not understand.
Child protection opened an investigation into Drew’s use of Cody.
Drew blamed the interviewers for confusing him.
She said I had coached Theo and intimidated witnesses.
The full party video contradicted her version.
Still, the family court kept both children in their current homes while requiring supervised exchanges for any necessary contact.
Theo asked whether Cody hated him.
“I don’t know.”
“He jumped.”
“Yes.”
“He laughed.”
“Yes.”
“Why won’t you say he hates me?”
“Because hurting someone and hating them are not always the same thing.”
“That sounds worse.”
Sometimes it was.
The payment records became more troubling.
The account I had used was not technically mine.
It was called the Barrymore Family Support Reserve, and I possessed online authority as Theo’s mother.
The statements I received showed only total outgoing amounts.
The full transaction paths were held by the family office.
Paul Mercer, Daniel’s longtime financial administrator, claimed the four payments had been authorized by Daniel before his death.
“Show us the instruction,” Rachel said.
Paul produced a one-page memorandum.
Please ensure Drew and Cody remain protected if I am gone.
Daniel’s signature was genuine.
The page did not name amounts, companies, or duration.
It did not authorize using Theo’s beneficiary reference.
Paul called the structure an accounting convenience.
Rachel called it concealed self-dealing.
I remembered signing online approvals after Daniel’s funeral.
Paul told me the support arrangement honored Daniel’s wishes.
I never opened the linked schedules.
Grief had made every document look like another demand from a life that had already taken too much.
My trust had created access.
Their choices had exploited it.
That evening, someone pushed an envelope beneath our front door.
Inside was a copy of the birthday petition.
A handwritten note filled the margin.
May you like
DREW NEEDED YOU CHARGED BEFORE 6:00 P.M.
The clock on the patio video showed Cody landed on the cake at 2:17.
